


Date Night

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes dip to the alcohol and he gestures to it blatantly.  “I would like some,”  he says, and you laugh again.</p>
<p>“No duh, Cas.  It ain't a date unless you drink with me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Date Night

The Mark under your sleeve twinges with anticipation as you wrench open your car door and heave yourself in to sit behind the wheel of your beloved Impala. You're headed out for a bar you happen to know is full of Crowley's demons, and you plan on getting into a fight. You plan on tapping some lucky black-eyed bitch on the shoulder and luring them outside with your quips and banter and bastardly sharp tongue that has yet to get you out of trouble with the sort. You might even pull the demon-killing knife on them, you might even stick that blade into their stomach and jerk upwards, you might even ram it at an angle, into the crook of their ribs and rip open their flesh. You might stand in a puddle of their blood, you might let it ooze into a pool at your feet. You might even stain your boots with their red insides.

But then the passenger side door cracks open and your angel is peering in, his blue eyes catch yours immediately and you have to bite back a disgruntled sigh. 

“Hey, Cas,” you say, because he's slipping in and sitting beside you already. The door closes and you give in and turn the key in the ignition, and the engine roars to life. 

“Hello, Dean.” Yeah, you weren't expecting much more of an opener from him. Yet, for some reason, you'd hoped he'd have something else to say. “Mind if I tag along?”

“Do I have much've a choice?” You could have been a little less snarky, you could have at least smiled at him instead of putting your car into gear to pull out of the garage. The tires screech resistance, but you pay them little mind and tear through the tunnel.

The angel just kind of sighs and looks out his window. His shoulders look tense, but you try to keep your eyes on the the dim road under your headlights, on the light at the end of the tunnel. You actually don't mind. You're actually kind of glad that he's coming. It's been a good while since you've actually spent any real time with the guy. But you grind your teeth and clinch your jaw for show anyway. 

“No,” he finally admits. “Sam and I decided it would be best to-”

“To babysit me?”

An irritated sigh, or maybe it's a grunt, is all you really get out of him until the light washes over your car, what little of it the moon provides, and you pull onto the main road. 

“Where are we going?” Cas asks, like there's a number of choices and you have a whole lot of time to waste on improbable opportunities.

“Don't know,” you huff. “Bar, probably.” You turn your eyes on him and, despite your choppy reply, Cas smiles at you and he's looking back at you for the first time tonight. You have to stifle your own smile, you have to bite at your lower lip so you don't match his expression.

* * *

You park a block away from your destination. Not because you have to but because you want to distance yourself from the watering hole and maybe give you and Cas a little alone time, even if it is for a few messily placed steps down the sidewalk. You want to sling your arm around him, some part deep inside of you that wants to fight what Cain said, wants you to pull him into you and hold him close and tell destiny to go _fuck_ itself.

But you don't and you instead walk firmly, and he follows close behind. Shouldering through the front door, you're instantly assaulted by the loud scent of piss and alcohol. You catch a whiff of something particularly illegal burning, so you scan the area for a “No Smoking” sign. You can't find one through the thick cloud of smoke. This is a tavern at its best, you think, and you sit at the bar and gesture to the stool next to yours. Cas sits there without much thought, his eyes are wandering and scoping each inch of the place. 

The angel is the first to break the silence. “Not the most inviting of smells,” he says, crinkling his nose, and you can't help but smirk and fail to stifle an amused grunt as you turn your eyes to the waitress to wave her down. 

“What's ya poison?” Her curly blond hair frames her face and she's snapping gum at you with those plump red lips and she's grinning, her lips are tugged back, and she's eyeing you like she's one of the many demons that want your guts on a platter and you think _damn, she's hot._

“Whiskey,” you tell her, matching her smirk. “Just give us a whole bottle, if y'don't mind.” You're charming by nature and you know it, but today you have to try extra hard to put on a bad boy face to mask the depression and anger that's really bubbling in your consciousness like nausea and vomit. But she smiles like that actually fucking impresses her and turns on her heels to grab your order off the wall. 

Two empty glasses are placed in front of you alongside the bottle and for the first time since the waitress has come over, you turn your gaze back to Cas and his eyes are already on you. Like he's been watching you talk to her, and your heart retches when you catch what looks like hurt washing the color from the his face, but then his eyes dip to the alcohol and he gestures to it blatantly.

“I would like some,” he says, and you laugh again. He looks mildly offended but you want to tell him he's way too cute for his own good, but that would be too inviting and you know it and you're not ready to drag him down that road just yet, not until you've got a few beers in you. A few alcohols, you correct, because you definitely plan on sticking to the hard stuff.

“No duh, Cas. It ain't a date unless you drink with me.” You pour him a glass first, you fill it to the brim of the half-sized cup, and you slide it over to him. Your ears are burning, you can feel the flush of your cheeks, because you just referred to this as a date and all he fucking did was smile at you.

So you fill your glass to the brim too and toss it back without much thought. It takes a few chugs to empty the glass, but you don't pull it away from your lips until there's no more, then you slam the empty glass back down and hiss at the burn in your throat. Sucking air through your teeth, you fill it back up and look to your angel.

“So,” you start, but you don't have anywhere to go so you wait until his eyes meet yours. “How... How've you been, man?” One hand holds your glass, the other gestures lazily before resting on your knee. You try to balance yourself, an elbow on the bar as you sip from your glass. 

He looks almost befuddled by the question, like it's fucked up that you would care about him or something. “I've been alright.”

You throw him a skeptical look and place your drink to the counter top briefly, fingers still lingering at the condensation.

The angel sighs, defeated. “I've been better.” And then he does the damnedest thing. He throws back the rest of his drink, too. Granted, he'd sucked it down to the last few sips, but it was still enough to quirk your eyebrows. You mimic the notion.

“Yeah?”

He nods. He doesn't want to talk about it, you can tell, so you let your eyes flicker to the waitress. “You wanna...” You nod to her. “Call dibs?”

He laughs. He fucking laughs, so you decide it's okay to laugh, too. He declines, however, and asks for more whiskey. You top him off and take a hit off the bottle itself before topping off yours. A few more sips before turning back to Cas, and this time he's not staring at you. You swallow hard on the infatuation you feel surfacing and you lick at your lips as you avert your eyes quickly. You berate yourself for giving in first and casting the first look of longing, but when your eyes chance a glance back to him he's looking at you now, a dorky smile on his lips, and you laugh. “What?” 

He shakes his head. You repeat yourself, you even lean in and elbow at him playfully, you smile at him and you just genuinely flirt with him until he finally offers an answer. “I just, uh... I've missed you.”

“Missed me?” You snort and prop your elbows back up on the bar. You press your glass to your lips but you don't drink. “I missed you, too, Cas.” Then you do drink, you allow yourself to know what he's talking about, because yeah, you haven't been yourself lately. You haven't been around, you've been obsessed and annoying and dammit you love Cas and you want to make up for all that bullfuckery.

But the idea of someone actually missing you is still really hard to process and it's enough to make your eyelids flutter and your stomach to flip flop. Even Sam needs his breaks, even your own father needed long intervals of time away from you. Strange that your angel is the only thing that can't stand to be away from you. And, hey, you can't stand being away from him, either. It's a win-win. Or a lose-lose, however you choose to look at it. 

Cas opens his mouth to speak, you can see it in the corner of your eye, but he reaches for the bottle instead and pours out his own drink. You smirk and set down your glass to side-eye him with a goofy smile tracing your lips. There's a pool of warmth in the pit of your stomach and you think you might be crossing over into being tipsy. You might even be plunged into intoxication soon.

But your angel is further along it seems, because he spills some alcohol on the counter and groans. You laugh and yank a napkin from the steel napkin rack at your right to wipe it up.

“Thank you,” he says as you throw the napkin to the side. You just snort and down the rest of your drink. “What do you want to do next?” He asks. 

You're not sure how to answer that so you just look at him carefully before filling up your glass. “What d'you mean?”

“Well,” he cants his head towards you and there's a sly grin on his face, “you did say this was a date, didn't you? Shouldn't we do more than just get drunk?”

You laugh. “Clearly,” you say matter-of-factly, “you've never been on a date with Dean Winchester.” And then you both smile and you think wow, because Jesus do you think this guy is just the bee's knees. Whatever the ever-loving fuck that means. A lot of stuff starts to lose meaning as you search his blue eyes, and you know he's doing that thing where he counts your freckles so you turn your eyes away and your structure follows, your eyes splash against the contents of your drink. You smirk and chuckle once to yourself before tossing back the rest of your drink which is, wow, going away fast. What glass are you on? You're not sure what the one you're pouring makes.

“Hey, what's that make?” You ask, sloppily pouring him another glass as he turns his eyes away from you to the drink in front of him. He takes a sip as you set the bottle aside. 

He's counting, you know that now, because when he sets down his drink he answers. “Four. For me.” Then his eyes meet yours and he's grinning like a dork. A nerdy, stupid dork. “You? Seven, I think.”

“Awesome,” and you slam back your drink. “Let's go.” And you're on your feet and flipping through your cash before your mouth really catches up with the whole of your sentence. You drop down enough to cover for the bottle and a few extra for the hot waitress. 

He finishes his drink as he stands. “Okay. Where're we going?” 

“On that date, dork.” You jerk your lips into a grin. “Yeah?” Then you tuck in your chin and point your eyebrows at him. You give him the ol' razzle dazzle. And he caves, like you knew he would, so you clap once and scoop up the bottle of whiskey.

* * *

The walk back to your car is long. A lot longer than the walk to the bar was. When you get there, you have every intention of driving, but Cas voices a protest as you pull open your door and drop the whiskey in.

“What?” You grunt, shutting the door. Not that you'd opened it any wider than an inch.

“I believe you're far too intoxicated to function this machine.”

You want to bark back about how you're not an angel, but you chew on that insult instead as you nod. You''ve tried to refrain from using his species as a analogy for a perfect, goody-two-shoes. Because, no, angels were not perfect. Far from it.

Well. All of them but Cas, for the most part. 

“You wanna... Call a cab?”

Cas grins like a dork for the third time in one night. A new record. “That's a great idea.”

* * *

It doesn't take long to flag down a cab. It's yellow and easy to spot but also parked with its exhaust bleating fumes. Two woman and a young boy climb out and Dean offers the two parents a wave and a smile as he and his angel approach the cab. You climb into the back from the side walk, and Cas slides in from the road behind the driver. The seats are set up like the seats in your car, so you brush your angel's inner thigh as casually as you can with your entire palm. The driver's eyes meet yours and you were only half-expecting them to flicker black. 

“Where to?” He asks and he's surprisingly cheery for a cab driver that's taking the night shift. He looks to be around his early twenties.

“The movie theater,” you say. You're not quite sure why it's the first thing that rolled off your tongue; you haven't taken someone you liked to a movie since you were in high school. But the guy gives a firm nod and takes off, the seat bounces and the radio buzzes but you quickly grow accustom to it for the sake of enjoying your time with Cas. 

But then the angel goes and kills the mood. “Dean,” is how he begins. Innocent enough.

You look to him and smile. 

“Do you think I'll be able to re-obtain my grace? From Metatron?” His expression contorts into something that suggests melancholy and defeat and _no,_ you think. _I don't._

“Yes,” you say anyways. Because part of you wants to believe it. “Just like Austin Powers got his mojo back.” You felt that was a good enough thought to share.

And Cas smiles and you think _good,_ because he should smile. “Are you suggesting I am an International Man of Mystery?”

And you laugh because dammit, that was funny. 

“Yeah, baby.” You at least have the common courtesy to not include the obnoxious accent. You just mumble your response as best you can shove it through your lips, the ones that are stretched into a grin you thought you weren't capable of splaying anymore.

Your angel does it again, smiles like a dork and you think that's the fourth time. “What?” You snort after a long while, his eyes barely ever blinking in the wait.

“I like that.”

You squint at him, but your smile doesn't fade.

“Baby.” His head tilts towards you and for a moment you think he might kiss you. “You called me baby.”

“Oh. Shit, did I?” You're definitely leaning in on reflex. Or maybe Cas is the one leaning in. You can't quite be bothered to give a damn. You're close, closer than you've ever been with this guy consciously before. And you go to close the gap, knowingly. Your lips brush his and you can feel the tip of his nose brush your cheek and you're positive this is going to happen because there's a hand on your thigh that isn't yours and your hands have disappeared into the crook of his neck. Your heart thumps loud and an onslaught of emotions flood your lap and turns your toes numb. But then the cab driver clears his throat, quite loudly, and you jump to attention and throw the guy a grin through the mirror. His eyes keep glancing up towards you and you think his face is flushed a deep red so you sizzle down and laugh. 

Cas just looks at you. “I don't understand what's so funny,” he says in the most honest and innocent voice he's capable of. You can tell it's half-assed, because he's smiling, too.

“Nothing, baby,” you say past a shit eating grin, and you rest against the back of the seat and sling an arm around his shoulders instead.

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what you think !! <3  
> also tell me if u want another chapter!


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